


Puppy Love

by Pollydoodles



Series: The Pizza Dog Chronicles [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, pizza dog - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-08
Updated: 2016-02-08
Packaged: 2018-05-19 04:18:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5953324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pollydoodles/pseuds/Pollydoodles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve, pyjama-clad, yawning softly and rubbing sleep from his eyes, wandered into the kitchen area of the common room, and stopped dead. </p><p>“Uh, Buck? What’s that?”</p><p>Bucky, hair in eyes and hunched over the counter, busily shovelling cornflakes into his mouth, followed Steve’s gestured finger and paused briefly to glance to his right. </p><p>“S’dog.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Puppy Love

Steve, pyjama-clad, yawning softly and rubbing sleep from his eyes, wandered into the kitchen area of the common room, and stopped dead. 

“Uh, Buck? What’s that?”

Bucky, hair in eyes and hunched over the counter, busily shovelling cornflakes into his mouth, followed Steve’s gestured finger and paused briefly to glance to his right. 

“S’dog.” He mumbled around milk and cereal, turning back to his breakfast as he did so. 

Steve sighed and ran a hand through his hair, leaving it sticking up at all angles. Bucky, so unused to small talk or indeed any real depth of conversation, was often incredibly literal in his speech. It took some getting used to. 

“I know it’s a-,” He paused, closing his eyes briefly, took a breath and re-calibrated his brain to Bucky-speak. “Okay, what I mean is, why is there a dog sitting at the breakfast counter with you?” 

“It’s Barton’s dog.” Bucky nodded in agreement, absent-mindedly as he reached for more coffee, but it was not he who had answered. Steve looked down to see Darcy, oversize t-shirt drowning her small frame and skinny pale legs looking porcelain white against the dark hardwood floors, skirting around him and heading for the fridge. “He asked if we could look after him at the Tower. Just for the weekend.”

Okay, that made a little more sense. 

Wait.

“Barton has a dog?” Steve couldn’t quite match the man with caring for a pet. For one, he’d have to be around to feed it. And then, even if he was, he’d have to remember to do so. For a split second, an image of Barton’s apartment with illegible post-its stuck to every available surface flashed across Steve’s mind. 

“Pizza.” Bucky said emphatically, pouring more cornflakes into his bowl. Darcy passed back a milk carton from the fridge without even looking at the dark-haired man and Steve wondered how many bowls of cereal his friend had gone through already that morning. Still, at least he’s eating now. Albeit eating us out of house and home. 

“Pizza?” Steve threw Darcy a non-plussed look.

“He’s not called Pizza, Buck.” Darcy settled herself comfortably at the counter across from his friend. “Clint was joking.” She poured herself a mug of coffee and then shook it in Steve’s direction, head tilted expectantly and silently asking if he wanted one also. The blond shook his head and instead grabbed the cornflakes before Bucky could finish the whole packet by himself. 

The dog, a yellow Labrador with intelligent brown eyes, whined and pawed at the counter. Steve frowned. He’d never had a pet – mostly, he could barely afford to feed himself, let alone be responsible for anything else, and after that, well, then pets were the least of his problems – were dogs supposed to sit in bar stools like people? 

Bucky silently pushed his bowl over to the dog, and the lab enthusiastically stuck its head into the dish. Darcy threw back her coffee with as much fervour as the dog was applying to Bucky’s breakfast, then slipped out of her stool. “His name is Lucky,” the girl said, shoving masses of brunette curls behind her ear with one hand and laying the other against Bucky’s arm as she spoke. “Remember?”

It tugged at Steve’s heart to see it. 

Darcy’s small hand, pink varnished splattered nails and all, was resting against Bucky’s metal shoulder, covering the ugly red star that nothing, not even the weird and wonderful stuff that Stark had come up with, seemed to be able to remove. The permanent and harsh reminder of Bucky’s mercenary past. 

Steve watched Darcy, her eyes open and trusting, head nodding slightly as she silently encouraged Bucky to respond. The others tolerated his friend, made space for him, ate alongside him, shuffled up to make space for him on movie night. But none of them really accepted him, not the way Steve did. He understood, though it chafed at him. Steve was the only one who knew the old Bucky, who could see the man that he’d been and who he might still become again. He got it – but it didn’t make it any easier when the team skirted around his best friend. 

Darcy, on the other hand, took people as they came. He supposed that, after having a rude awakening to the possibilities of other realms and otherworldly people via the medium of Thor, she didn’t expect too much from what she found. Or possibly, the very reason was that she expected more of the people around whom she’d ended up surrounded. Darcy was simple, and that was no bad thing. There was a big difference between simple and stupid; even if people underestimated Darcy daily because of that. 

“Yes.”

Bucky’s answer was small, but hearing it twisted Darcy’s mouth into a smile. 

“And we said we’d take him for a walk, didn’t we?”

A hesitation before a response. 

“Yes?”

Bucky’s voice was less certain on that one. 

“Yes,” Darcy said firmly. “You’re gonna get a coat, and jeans, and we’re going to take Lucky ‘round the block.” Steve realised with an internal groan at Darcy’s words that Bucky was sat behind the counter in a t-shirt and underpants. Again. She pushed at the dark-haired man gently, fingers digging into his side, and obediently he slipped from the stool. 

“I’ll meet you out front, ‘kay?” Darcy’s words elicited a nod from Bucky, who padded around the counter and past Steve, who squeezed him on the shoulder briefly as the other man drew level. Solemnly, the dog also dropped from its own stool and followed in Bucky’s footsteps. Steve stared at it as it wandered past him, then threw a questioning look at Darcy. She shrugged. 

That afternoon, Steve found himself back in the common room. 

Darcy, Bucky and Barton’s dog were curled up together on the floor amidst blankets and couch cushions, some action movie Steve couldn’t immediately place blaring from the TV. Bucky’s left arm was slung nonchalantly around Darcy’s shoulders, strands of her hair tangled in the joints. His right hand petted the dog’s head, playing with its ears gently as the animal stretched out, head in Bucky’s lap and legs twitching randomly in sleep. Darcy, for her part, alternately fed both Bucky and the dog popcorn from the enormous bowl settled in her own lap, eyes fixed on the screen. 

Steve couldn’t help but smile at the scene in front of him. There was a mountain to climb, for sure, but somehow – without him even really realising – they’d already begun the ascent.


End file.
